


special treatment

by nocturne (dygonilly)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Enthusiastic Consent, History Professor Yoon Jeonghan, M/M, Masturbation, Poetry reading in the bedroom, Secret Relationship, Sneaking Around, Switching, Teacher-Student Relationship, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27051805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dygonilly/pseuds/nocturne
Summary: It escalates quicker than Seokmin expected it to. One day he’sLee Seokmin, fourth year Liberal Arts student, and the next he’sLee Seokmin, fourth year Liberal Arts student engaging in an illicit affair with his teacher on a regular basis.
Relationships: Lee Seokmin | DK/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 33
Kudos: 328





	special treatment

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in under 48 hours. I have no idea how. 
> 
> Regarding those tags: the age difference is 23 / 32 and everyone is consenting and just having a sexy time. If it's not your cup of tea, you don't have to drink it. Do what makes you feel comfy! Have fun.

It’s not intentional, the way it starts. 

Seokmin sees him for the first time as nothing but a beautiful stranger leaning against the wall outside the bar, one heeled boot propped back against the bricks, arms folded loosely over his chest.

Everything about him looks disinterested, from the jut of his chin to the way he laughs at whatever his companion says—all narrow eyes and a tilted mouth—but he is so beautiful. A breeze blows down the street and tangles his white-blond hair around his eyes, the bridge of his lovely nose, and he lets it happen. Seokmin feels magnified by the alcohol in his system, like he’s seeing more than he should, like he’s invading something, even if that something is just a stranger taking a long drag of a cigarette.

Seokmin watches the way his cheeks hollow when he breathes in, how it throws the impossible arch of his cheekbones into relief. He can’t stop staring at his hands, at the skin of his chest, exposed, framed by satin. His are legs wrapped in black denim, ripped sinfully high on the left leg and the hole looks big enough for Seokmin to fit his entire palm, to dip his fingers underneath, to knead at the muscle, to grip. 

Their eyes meet on the exhale. 

The stranger straightens up and says something to his friend, who leaves with a pat on his shoulder and a burst of music from inside. 

He reaches Seokmin in three easy strides. 

“I won’t suck your dick in the alleyway, if that’s what you were hoping for.” 

Seokmin splutters. He was expecting a hello, at least. The stranger seems to enjoy his discomfort. He smiles, eyes roaming around Seokmin’s body before settling lazily on his face. 

“I’m Jeonghan.”

  
  


—

  
  


Jeonghan takes him home and lets him fuck him three times. 

The first begins in the taxi, with Jeonghan’s hand kneading into the flare of Seokmin’s thighs on the leather seat. Seokmin opens his legs so easily and Jeonghan’s fingers dig in a little harder in response. He rubs steady lines up and down Seokmin’s inner thigh with just enough pressure for Seokmin to feel his breath quicken. It only takes a minute for him to start getting hard, hips shifting around on the seat, cheeks flushing. 

But Jeonghan isn’t even looking at him. He’s making small talk with the taxi driver. 

It’s maddening. Seokmin hardly even feels like himself. He’d usually be pushing the hand gripping his inner thigh away, blushing and muttering about having a bit of patience, embarrassed about doing this kind of thing in public. But he doesn’t. He feels wanted like this, even if Jeonghan is toying with him like he knows he’ll go along with it. That’s how he got Seokmin into the taxi. A confident assumption, a perfect smile, a blunt nail dragging down from Seokmin’s sternum to the buckle of his jeans. They haven’t even kissed yet.

Jeonghan’s fingers move up to his crotch. Seokmin sees him smirk as he traces the outline of his erection, as he uses his palm to grind down and Seokmin exhales through his nose, neck tense, head pressed back against the headrest. 

He’s going to come in his jeans in the back of a taxi. Two more minutes and he might have. 

Luckily, the car stops and Jeonghan gets out with a smile and a goodnight to the driver like he hadn’t spent the entire drive turning Seokmin into a squirming mess. 

“Thank you,” Seokmin says, strained, and follows Jeonghan into his building. 

They stand apart in the elevator. Jeonghan leans against the mirrored wall with his arms crossed over his chest, looking down his nose at Seokmin like he’s admiring his work. Seokmin looks back for as long as he can before his eyes drop safely to his feet. 

“So um. Any roommates we need to avoid?”

Jeonghan snorts. “I haven’t had a roommate in five years.” 

“Really?” It’s a nice building. Nothing like the university residence Seokmin moved into last year. He likes his apartment, but it only works because he was already used to having little to no personal space around Soonyoung. Being almost on top of each other in the kitchen-come-living room _and_ sharing a bathroom was difficult for the first month, but he’s used to it now. Jeonghan must either have rich parents or a full time job if he’s living on his own in a place like this.

The elevator slows to a stop. Jeonghan’s eyes narrow. “How old are you, Seokmin?”

“Twenty-three. Why? How old are you?”

Jeonghan hums consideringly and walks out of the elevator. Seokmin follows dumbly. The carpet muffles their footsteps and Jeonghan enters his passcode but he doesn’t open the door. He keeps one hand on the doorknob and turns to look over his shoulder. “You’re not drunk, right?”

Seokmin smiles, confused. “No.”

“And you want to fuck me?”

“Jesus,” Seokmin exhales, fixing his hair like a nervous tick. Jeonghan is watching him expectantly, so he clears his throat and squares his shoulders. “Yeah. Yes. I want to.”

“Good.” Jeonghan opens the door and stands in the way so that Seokmin is forced to brush past him. As soon as they’re inside he closes the door and handles Seokmin until his back is pressed against it, hands tugging at his belt. They haven’t even turned the lights on. Seokmin tries to lean in and finally kiss Jeonghan, but he’s already dropping to his knees, and Seokmin thinks he can wait a little longer to taste Jeonghan’s mouth if this is the alternative. 

For all his apparent impatience, Jeonghan is gentle about the way he tugs Seokmin’s jeans to his ankles along with his underwear, how he uses his hands and his mouth to coax Seokmin back to hardness. The foyer is a flood of blue light. There’s an open window somewhere in the apartment, letting in the sounds of the city, the chill, traffic and the breeze mixing with the wet sounds of Jeonghan mouthing at his cock. He knows what he’s doing. Really knows.

“Can I—” Seokmin brings a tentative hand to the crown of Jeonghan’s head and Jeonghan pulls off with a slick pop. 

“You can pull my hair, but don’t fuck my throat, I need my voice for work,” he says easily, pumping Seokmin with a hand. 

Seokmin nods shakily and threads his fingers through the blond strands, enjoying the contrast of it, the way it exposes Jeonghan’s brows and the way they bunch together when he gets his lips back on the side of Seokmin’s shaft. He smears his mouth down to the base and back up to the tip, looking up at Seokmin the entire time. His cock twitches at the sight and Jeonghan smirks as much as he can with his mouth wrapped around the tip, lips swollen. He takes Seokmin almost all the way to the base and Seokmin groans, head knocking against the door. Jeonghan keeps his pace steady. He gets his hands back on Seokmin’s thighs and moans with his mouth full.

“I’m going to come,” Seokmin warns shakily, but Jeonghan doesn’t slow down. His hands move to the backs of his thighs and up, up until there’s a wide palm on each of Seokmin’s cheeks, fingers flared and spreading him open. One of his fingers moves around to press against his rim and Seokmin’s gut clenches. “Oh, fuck,” he says, voice pitching into a moan. 

Jeonghan hollows his cheeks and sucks at the same time as he presses the tip of his finger in, and Seokmin comes with a choked off sound, down Jeonghan’s throat, one hand on the door and one tight in Jeonghan’s hair.

Jeonghan stands up and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you,” Seokmin says around a smile, pulling his underwear up and stepping out of his jeans.

“I do. But I also wanted to suck you off the second I got my hands on you in the taxi.” Jeonghan unbuttons his shirt and pulls it off over his head. Seokmin gets his hands on his waist before the shirt even hits the floor, palms rubbing hotly up Jeonghan’s ribcage and over his chest, fingers tracing along his delicate collar bones before finding his jaw. He’s pretty in that wonderful way men are: a tapered waist and nice shoulders, sharp jaw and strong forearms. Defined like he plays sports, but he doesn’t work out. Seokmin isn’t always taller than the guys he sleeps with, but he likes it. Likes tipping their heads back, likes to be all over and around them. 

He crowds into Jeonghan’s space and holds his mouth open with his thumbs for a few seconds before he kisses him. Jeonghan kisses him back with a noise of surprise, but he melts into it. Seokmin likes the taste of himself on Jeonghan’s tongue, draws out every bit of it, revelling in the way Jeonghan moans against his top lip. 

“Clothes off,” Jeonghan eventually says against his teeth. He starts to pull away from Seokmin to walk to the bedroom, but Seokmin goes on a hunch and pulls him back in, bends down just enough to get a grip on his ass, and picks him up. Jeonghan yelps and grabs Seokmin’s shoulders for balance, legs wrapping around his waist. “Oh my god,” he breathes, hips twitching.

“Yeah?” Seokmin asks, cocky. Jeonghan’s hands drift down to Seokmin’s shoulders and upper arms. He nods.

“Get me naked and then you can fuck me like this,” he says breathily.

They get past the first step, and then they get distracted. 

Seokmin fucks Jeonghan open with his fingers on expensive sheets. They keep the curtains open and the lights off, and Seokmin feels insane at the sight of Jeonghan’s skin covered in moonlight, the way he keeps making these pained noises into his pillow, back muscles bunching every time Seokmin’s fingers press in. He bends over to replace his fingers with his tongue and Jeonghan whimpers and pushes back against his mouth desperately. 

“Fuck, yes,” he says, voice muffled. One of his hands comes back and grabs the back of Seokmin’s head, pulling him close enough that breathing becomes difficult. Seokmin opens his mouth wider, uses his lips and his tongue in equal measure. Jeonghan’s hips start rolling against the mattress, legs spread, voice breaking. Seokmin uses his thumbs to keep Jeonghan spread open and he grips hard enough to force his hips to still, and then he fucks him ruthlessly with his tongue. Jeonghan gets louder and louder and then he goes completely silent, fingers spasming in Seokmin’s hair and hole clenching around his tongue as he comes onto the sheets.

He collapses with his cheek pressed against his pillow, eyes unfocused, chest heaving. Seokmin rubs a soothing hand from his ass up to the nape of his neck, and then he chases the path with his mouth until he’s pressed all along Jeonghan’s back, mouth against his ear, skin sliding a little with the sweat. 

“You’re heavy,” Jeonghan mumbles into the pillow, but there’s no heat to it. Seokmin giggles against his cheek before kissing it and turning him over so that he doesn’t collapse into the wet spot. Jeonghan’s cheeks are blotchy and his mouth is all bitten, and he instantly arches his back under Seokmin so that their bodies fit neatly together. Seokmin moves a hand between his lower back and the mattress and starts grinding their hips together, impossibly hard again from feeling Jeonghan fall apart under him. 

Jeonghan twitches in sensitivity but he doesn’t push Seokmin away. He lets Seokmin rock their bodies together in an imitation of the real thing for a minute, hands roaming all over Seokmin’s body, eyes locked, mouth open just enough for Seokmin to see how it shines in the low light. They don’t kiss, but their mouths are close to share breath. It’s hot. Too hot. Bizarrely intimate after the half-clothed blowjob in the hallway and fingering Jeonghan stomach-down on the bed. Jeonghan brings his legs around Seokmin’s waist and the change in position makes Seokmin’s cock catch between his cheeks, still wet from Seokmin’s mouth, his rim stretched out and waiting. Jeonghan gasps at the feeling.

“Can I fuck you now?” Seokmin asks—begs, he doesn’t care.

“You better,” Jeonghan says, patting around blindly for the condoms he took out earlier and shoving one into Seokmin’s hand. 

Seokmin reluctantly pulls back, sitting on his heels to roll the condom on himself. Jeonghan watches him, legs spread, hands tracing his stomach and the insides of his thighs, eyelids heavy. Seokmin pours some lube on himself and fucks into his fist at the feeling, gut clenching. He’s thankful for Jeonghan pulling one orgasm out of him already because he always lasts longer the second time, and something tells him that being inside Jeonghan is about to be the best part of his year. He might think it was sad, but Jeonghan is easily the hottest man who has ever paid him any attention. 

He pushes Jeonghan’s pale legs by the backs of his knees and guides the tip of his cock to his rim, watching as it clenches around nothing for a few seconds before Seokmin starts to press in. “Shit,” Jeonghan moans, propping himself up on his elbows so he can watch Seokmin push in, slowly, steadily. “You’re bigger than I thought,” he says. Seokmin’s chest puffs out.

“You already sucked me off.”

“Yeah but that’s—mm—different. Fuck.” Jeonghan collapses back onto the pillows and Seokmin presses in the rest of the way, hips flush against his ass. He’s so tight around him, Seokmin feels like he’s seeing stars. 

“Tell me when,” he says, strained.

“When,” Jeonghan grins. 

Seokmin pulls out slowly and grinds back in just as slow, eyes trained on where his cock disappears into Jeonghan and comes back out, shining, Jeonghan’s rim stretched around him. Jeonghan moans, low and long. Seokmin wants to hear those high pitched sounds he was making around his tongue again, all desperate and cracked over each other, so his next thrust isn’t as gentle, and the one after that, and that, and that. Jeonghan takes it beautifully, eyebrows drawn together, skin hot under Seokmin’s hands when he moves them from his knees to his waist, using the grip to pull their bodies together. It’s good, it’s insanely good, but it could be even better. 

He pulls out.

“What are you doing?” Jeonghan whines. Seokmin stands up and moves the bedside table over a few feet to clear a space on the wall, and then he reaches for Jeonghan’s waiting body and picks him up like a ragdoll. “Seokmin what— _oh_.” 

“Hold on.” Seokmin fucks back into him in one fluid movement and Jeonghan cries out into his neck. It’s harder than fucking him into the mattress but the sounds he makes are worth it, loud enough to carry over the sounds of their hips meeting and several photo frames rattling against the wall. Seokmin wants to catch the sounds between his teeth, kiss him hard enough that they both have to come up for air, gasping, but their bodies are moving too much for it to work. He buries his face in the juncture of Jeonghan’s neck and shoulder and bites down, tongue lapping at the sweat gathering on Jeonghan’s throat, greedy, desperate. 

Jeonghan hums, “You’re fucking me so well.” Seokmin’s hips stutter. “You like that?”

Seokmin whimpers into his skin.

“Don’t be shy, baby.” Jeonghan sounds impossibly composed. “Tell hyung what you like.”

“Oh my god,” Seokmin whines, burying himself to the hilt and grinding their hips together to stop himself from coming on the spot. Jeonghan’s breath catches. 

“Back on the bed,” he demands, sharp and sudden. “Don’t pull out.” Seokmin follows obediently, holding Jeonghan steadily and taking two steps back to sit on the edge of the mattress with Jeonghan in his lap. Jeonghan hums and rolls his hips, knees digging into the sheets. His mouth comes down on Seokmin like a storm. He fucks his tongue into Seokmin’s mouth like he’s claiming it, picking up a pace with his hips at the same time, and Seokmin can only take it, chest burning, hips fucking up to meet the tight heat every time Jeonghan drops down onto his cock.

“Good?” Jeonghan asks, pulling back to let Seokmin breathe. Seokmin nods. “Eyes on me, Seokmin.” Like Seokmin would look anywhere else. Jeonghan takes everything he wants, and Seokmin gives it up willingly. He guides Seokmin’s hand to touch him while he fucks himself on Seokmin’s cock like a toy, eyes closed, head tossed back. His blond hair fans around his face like a sculpture. 

Seokmin brings his free hand up to Jeonghan’s mouth and groans when Jeonghan takes his index and middle finger easily between his lips, voice muffled, tongue working expertly around the digits like he had over the tip of Seokmin’s cock. 

Seokmin fucks his mouth with his fingers and his hips move faster and more frantically until they’re both falling out of rhythm, chasing their own orgasms. 

Jeonghan comes first, curling into himself and making a mess of his stomach, moaning around Seokmin’s fingers, spit falling over his chin, smeared and pretty. Seokmin can’t think past the way he’s clenching around him, the wet feeling of come dripping off Jeonghan’s skin and onto his own, and he comes with his forehead pressed into Jeonghan’s collar bone and his hands gripping his waist tight enough to bruise.

“God that was…” He kisses Jeonghan’s sternum, his chin, his mouth. “You’re incredible.”

“Mm, I know.”

Seokmin slaps his ass and smiles when Jeonghan gasps and clenches around him. He hisses in oversensitivity and Jeonghan grins.

“Yah, that’s what you get,” he admonishes, standing up on shaky legs, wincing at the feeling of Seokmin pulling out. 

“Do you like that?”

“Like what?” Jeonghan asks, distracted, cleaning himself up with some tissues.

“Getting spanked,” Seokmin says, riding some renewed wave of confidence. He leans back on his palms, naked and okay with it. Jeonghan comes to stand in the space between his legs and tips Seokmin’s chin up with his index finger. 

“Stay the night and I’ll let you find out.”

  
  


—

  
  


He does like it. A lot. Seokmin fucks him from behind after they take a shower together and this time the lights are on, and the marks he leaves on Jeonghan’s skin make him feel some kind of possessive. Jeonghan comes with his wrists pinned under one of Seokmin’s hands and his pale skin flushed red. Seokmin comes with his body covering Jeonghan’s and pressing it into the mattress, mouth on his ear and words dripping down his neck.

Jeonghan kicks him out the next morning at some ungodly hour with a kiss and a slap on the ass.

Seokmin is still half asleep when he reaches the end of the street to meet his taxi, and it takes another five minutes to realise they never exchanged numbers. He lets his head fall back against the headrest and berates himself for the whole ride home. 

  
  


—

  
  


“Which classes have you got today?” Soonyoung asks, stuffing his mouth with an energy bar and chasing it with canned coffee. It’s the first day of Fall semester and the streets around Sogang are back to being full of students. Seokmin sticks close to Soonyoung as they cross the street, and then he pulls his phone out to double check his calendar. 

“I’ve got a core class for Literature at nine and then…” He squints. “History elective at one.”

“Oh dude, which one?”

“Ancient Civilisations of the West,” Seokmin reads. It sounded interesting enough, but it was also the elective that gave him the best schedule. He’ll sit through some old guy talking about Europe if it means he gets Fridays off.

Soonyoung chokes on his energy bar. Seokmin absently hits his back until he stops coughing. “I’m taking that too,” he gets out.

“What? Why are you taking a history class? You’re a journalism student.”

“I can have varied interests,” Soonyoung says petulantly. Seokmin raises an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, you got me. The teacher is just really hot. And history fucks, I guess. I don’t even need the credits so it’s okay if I drop out halfway through the semester.”

Seokmin bends over in a peal of laughter. “You’re paying for a subject you won’t even finish just because the teacher is hot? You’re unbelievable.”

“Homosexuality is a curse,” Soonyoung says, fake crying. Seokmin tries to shove him into some bushes.

  
  


—

  
  


Seokmin has an interesting enough morning. He writes down the key dates for the class in his diary and makes a reminder to print out the list of readings so that he doesn’t forget about half of them like he did for his modern theatre class last semester. Soonyoung meets him for lunch on the grounds and complains about his Digital Media class, how the teacher made everyone create a Twitter profile and Soonyoung had to admit he didn’t have an email account in front of the whole class. 

There are already quite a few students in the lecture hall when they arrive, scattered around the tiered seats and talking loud enough to blanket the room in noise. The teacher hasn’t arrived yet.

“Come on, I want front row seats,” Soonyoung says, tugging Seokmin by the wrist. 

“Hyung, no, the people in the front always get asked questions.”

“Good,” Soonyoung says eagerly. “I want Professor Yoon to look me in the eyes and ask me something I don’t know the answer to so that I can think about it late at night when I’m feeling a little lonely.”

“Gross,” Seokmin laughs, sliding into the seat next to Soonyoung and pulling out his notebook. “Isn’t he like, old?”

Soonyoung’s eyes go all dreamy. “Seungkwannie said he’s thirty-two.”

“How does he know that?”

“It’s usually better if you don’t ask.”

“Fair,” Seokmin concedes. He opens his notebook and gets to work on the first page, writing the date and the name of the class, copying a few key dates from the syllabus on his phone. Soonyoung chews on his thumb and watches Seokmin work, his own desk devoid of any note taking material. Maybe he really does intend to fail this class.

The doors of the lecture hall open and close with a loud noise.

“Sorry I’m late, everyone.”

Soonyoung looks up first and makes a dreamy little noise. “Fuck.” Seokmin snorts and finishes ruling his margins. 

“Keep it in your pants, Soonyoung,” he says under his breath.

“Dude, look up and tell me you wouldn’t sell your kidney for this guy,” Soonyoung hisses. Seokmin laughs and rolls his eyes, but he does as Soonyoung asks. 

His pen immediately clatters to the floor and rolls away from him, comically fast. 

The floor must be tilted and also God hates him because the damn thing just keeps rolling until it reaches the podium, inches away from the pair of black heeled boots attached to long, gorgeous legs—legs that Seokmin knows. Legs that he has had his hands and his mouth on, all over, for hours, less than one week ago. He feels like he’s going into cardiac arrest.

Jeonghan crouches down to pick up the pen and spins it around once. He starts to say something as he turns around, probably a smart comment about one of his students being clumsy and oh _fuck_ Seokmin is one of his students and he’s almost turned around now, he’s looking along the first row until his eyes meet Seokmin’s, and his whole body freezes.

This was not what Seokmin was praying for when he lay awake past midnight masturbating to the feeling of Jeonghan clenching around him, biting down on his shoulder, clinging to his back, hoping to meet him again by chance so they could do it a second time. 

Jeonghan recovers impressively. “You dropped this,” he says. He hands Seokmin the pen instead of setting it on his pull-out desk, and Seokmin can’t even get his voice to work enough to say thank you. “Hold on a little tighter next time, hm?”

Seokmin nods. Soonyoung is vibrating like an old Nokia next to him, and the second Jeonghan turns back to finish setting up his presentation, he leans over to hiss in Seokmin’s ear.

“History _fucks_.”

Seokmin wants to melt into the floor.

He can’t concentrate on a single thing Jeonghan says for the entire two hours. His brain keeps oscillating between _this is bad this is bad_ and invasive memories of Jeonghan sucking his dick and moaning against the wall while he fucked him and how he’d made Seokmin’s hair look stupid in the shower just so he could laugh at him. He supposes it makes sense—the nice apartment, the lack of roommates, the “No hickies on my neck, Seokmin-ah, my boss will kill me. Again.” He definitely doesn’t look his age, but maybe it’s the hair. Or maybe he does look his age and Seokmin is just grasping for straws, thinking of a way to forgive himself for fucking one of his professors the week before Fall semester began.

It’s not like he knew, though. They just met outside a random bar and went home together, a little tipsy and horny and magically compatible. God but they were _so_ compatible. Maybe it’s because Jeonghan is older so he has more experience, but Seokmin has never had such good sex on the first try, if ever. Jeonghan’s body moulded to his like clay, fit in every way that it should, and he seemed to know exactly which buttons to push to rile Seokmin up, to make it so good that he thought about it every day since it happened. 

Maybe that’s just how Jeonghan is with every person he takes home. Maybe Seokmin isn’t that special. 

Jeonghan’s eyes keep skimming over him as he talks about Ancient Greece or Italy or whatever is on the syllabus for this class—Seokmin has already forgotten. His brain is just white noise and _don’t be shy_ and _tell hyung what you like_ and photo frames rattling against navy wallpaper. 

Eventually, thankfully, the class ends. 

“No readings this week. Please familiarise yourself with the syllabus and if you email me with a question that can be answered by reading the document, I probably won’t respond.”

Jeonghan’s eyes catch on Seokmin like a hook in a fish’s mouth. One second. Two. Three—

“See you next Monday.”

The room collapses into sound. Jeonghan turns back to his computer, leaving Seokmin to stare at the stretch of his shoulders underneath his white button-up, how the material is tucked neatly into his slacks at the waist. 

Soonyoung stands up. “I have to go, my next class is three buildings over. Catch you at home?”

“Yeah,” Seokmin says distractedly. Soonyoung follows his eyes to the podium and smirks. _My kidney_ , he mouths, and Seokmin wrinkles his nose. 

There are still a handful of students milling around the room, but nobody approaches Jeonghan. Seokmin hesitates. Is it suspicious? No, surely not, students ask their lecturers questions all the time, it’s their job to be helpful. He nods to himself and pushes his stuff into his backpack before flinging it over one shoulder and gripping it tight. 

Jeonghan looks up before he can even open his mouth. 

“Nope.”

“What? You don’t even know what I was going to ask,” Seokmin says indignantly.

Jeonghan gathers his laptop and papers into the crook of his arm and gives Seokmin a stern look. “Seokmin, this is not the place.” 

“Just tell me,” Seokmin pushes. “Did you know?”

“I should be asking you the same thing,” Jeonghan says sharply, but he catches himself when a few students walk past. He returns their wave with a perfect smile. 

“I didn’t know, I swear,” Seokmin says, voice low. “I didn’t even know who taught this class.”

“Aw, you didn’t look me up? Most of the students do.”

“Most of the students don’t know your thread count.” 

Jeonghan’s eyes flash dangerously. It takes a second for Seokmin’s brain to catch up with what he’s said, and his eyes go wide. “Sorry, I’m—oh my god.” He turns to leave, cheeks burning. It takes everything he has not to sprint out of the room. 

“Seokmin-ssi,” Jeonghan calls after him, voice echoing in the now empty lecture hall. 

Seokmin turns around like he’s being jerked back by a leash. “Yes?” 

“I like the glasses.”

Jeonghan walks out the opposite door and Seokmin stands there long enough for the next class-full of students to begin milling around him.

  
  


—

  
  


He doesn’t tell Soonyoung.

Seokmin is dumb, but he’s not stupid. He knows that Jeonghan’s job would be at risk and most likely ended if the university found out, and Soonyoung is famous for his big mouth. In all the ways you’d imagine. Seokmin won’t risk his own expulsion over an opportunity to gloat. 

It doesn’t mean he can’t revel in it privately. It turns out that Jeonghan really is a popular professor, not only because of his looks, but because he’s known for being ruthless about his deadlines and the comments he leaves on essays he doesn’t enjoy. Seokmin scrolls through the forums about it, one of those weird sites that gives feedback about different teachers. Amongst the messages gushing about his hair and his shoulders and the way he reads out ancient poetry somewhere around the six week mark (Seokmin makes a note of that in his diary), there are a few that accuse him of favouritism. Seokmin scrolls quickly past those, not enjoying the way his stomach swoops at the idea. He’s not even sure if it’s a bad feeling, but it scares him a little. He’s never been one to break the rules—that’s always been Soonyoung’s role in their friendship. But as he gets ready for bed, brushes his teeth, pulls on some worn pyjama pants and wriggles around under his covers to get comfortable, he can’t help but think about it.

What if?

What if Jeonghan asked Seokmin to come to his office, all aloof like he needed to discuss his last assignment, but the second he arrived he’d have Seokmin’s pants open just like the first time, eager, hips pressed into the wood of the door, hand around his cock, mouth against his to keep him quiet. “Don’t want anyone to find out, do you, Seokmin-ah?” he’d ask, fisting Seokmin’s cock between them, all their clothes still on, voices drifting in from under the door. “Can’t have them thinking I’m playing favourites.” 

The thought makes Seokmin’s toes curl. His right hand starts playing around with the waistband of his sleep shorts, nails scratching at his lower stomach. He hesitates, but then… it doesn’t hurt to fantasise, right? Besides, they’ve already fucked, and Seokmin has gotten off to the thought of Jeonghan almost six times at this point, this would just be a little change in the script. 

He closes his eyes and relaxes his body into the mattress. He lets his mind drift back to the imaginary office and starts to rub himself over his shorts. Maybe he’d drop by unannounced. Maybe Jeonghan would be grading papers, ink smudged on his perfect skin, and he’d look up at Seokmin’s entrance with something like relief. “Just the person I was hoping to see,” he’d say, leaning back in his chair, legs spread. “Close the door, won’t you? The hallway is a bit loud.” _Lock it_ , he would mouth, and Seokmin would do everything he says.

Seokmin is already hard. It never takes long. He fumbles for some lube in his bedside table and kicks his covers off, looking back at his door to double check that the lights are off and Soonyoung is asleep before pushing his shorts down enough to get a slicked up hand around himself. He hisses and fucks up into his fingers. He closes his eyes and goes back to—

“Come here.” Jeonghan would beckon Seokmin with two fingers and Seokmin would know the game, would know that they were always working on limited time when they did this, so he’d kiss Jeonghan open mouthed and dirty, just enough to get them both breathless, then he’d drop to his knees between Jeonghan’s spread legs with a hand on each thigh. 

“Been waiting for this all day,” he’d breathe, mouthing over Jeonghan’s fly, thumbs digging into his inner thighs.

“Me too,” Jeonghan would say, affected already. 

The fantasy jumps. Seokmin’s nose is pressed into the hairs at the base of Jeonghan’s dick, his eyes watering as his throat struggles against the intrusion. But he doesn’t pull away, because this is how Jeonghan likes it best. Likes the sound Seokmin makes when he gags a little. When Jeonghan can’t help himself and his hips twitch off his seat, fucking into Seokmin’s mouth, holding him under his desk, eyes half closed in bliss. “Seokmin,” he’d chant, “Your fucking mouth, I can’t stop thinking about it. All for me. Ugh, yes—just like that—yes—” 

Seokmin’s thighs start shaking, his hand moving quick and tight. There’s a sheen of sweat building on his brow, his bare chest, in between his thighs. He brings his other hand to his mouth and sucks on three of his fingers, trying to imagine the fullness as the weight of Jeonghan’s perfect cock, pressing in and out, frantic, eager, so close. He wouldn’t even make a sound, lower lip bitten between his teeth to muffle it, because they can never be too careful when they do this. 

Seokmin comes to the idea of Jeonghan holding him down as he comes down his throat. 

He lets out a pitched whimper, making a mess of his stomach and maybe his sheets, but he can’t think past the white noise between his ears, the bone deep longing to have Jeonghan again in any kind of way that he can, and the very real arousal he feels at the idea of doing so despite being in the positions they are. He thrusts into his fist until it’s uncomfortable and then he sags against his bed and looks at the ceiling, heart racing.

Shit.

  
  


—

  
  


The rest of the week passes in a blur, and suddenly it’s Monday all over again. Seokmin is jittery all morning. Soonyoung notices when they wander off campus for lunch but he just thinks it’s because Seokmin’s blood sugar is low and buys him an extra serving of fried chicken. Seokmin loves him so much. 

Soonyoung insists on sitting in the front row again and Seokmin protests weakly, if only to keep up pretenses. 

In reality, it’s exactly where he wants to be. He’s had a week to fist-fight his horny thoughts, and he’s come to the healthy acceptance that he is still allowed to find Jeonghan attractive. Everyone else does. It just so happens that Seokmin’s had sex with him. It makes him feel like he’s won a game nobody knows he was playing. Everyone in the faculty is daydreaming about a man who invited Seokmin back to his apartment to have sex with before they’d even had a conversation. Seokmin’s ego has never been so healthy. It makes him feel bold: when Jeonghan breezes in five minutes late, Seokmin follows him with his eyes, all the shock and shyness from the previous week forgotten. 

Jeonghan is wearing an ocean-blue blazer with boxy shoulder pads and washed out jeans, and his hair is in waves around his face. He leans against the desk at the front with his notes spread out behind him and locks his elbows.

“Welcome back to the best part of your week,” he says drily. There’s a wave of titters amongst the students and Jeonghan indulges them with a smile. “I got a few emails and I think one of you is in the wrong class, but I won’t call you out. However, I will say that the lecture for week seven will be taking place in _week seven_. I cannot move it to week three ‘just in case’.” 

His eyes flicker to Soonyoung, who sinks a little lower in his seat. Seokmin feels it like something hot on his skin when Jeonghan meets his eyes. Unlike Soonyoung, he sits up straighter. He made sure to wear the glasses again, and he wore a sweater that he knows makes his shoulders look broad. So he wants Jeonghan to look at him a little more. Nothing wrong with that. 

But Jeonghan doesn’t play. 

He gets into the lecture without a hiccup. Seokmin reluctantly takes notes. He does want to get good grades. He does well for a few minutes, but he gets so distracted by the way Jeonghan talks, the way he alternates between walking in aimless patterns before the projector and half-sitting against the desk with his hands in his pockets. Sexy. Effortless. Answering questions with enthusiasm and without a second of hesitation. He knows his source material backwards and forwards and sideways. Seokmin has never given much thought to the intricacies of the ancient Roman road system, but the way Jeonghan talks about it makes him sit up, lean in, take notice. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Seokmin was attracted to him physically, he has to pop an intellectual boner in the middle of class. None of his other teachers make the material sound like something worth his time. 

In the end, it isn’t the extra attention Seokmin paid to his outfit that gets Jeonghan to look at him. 

Jeonghan wanders past their seats after he instructs everyone to discuss a question with the person sitting next to them. Seokmin is only half listening to Soonyoung hypothesise about the top speeds you could hit in a horse-drawn carriage when Jeonghan comes to a stop before them. 

“I see you’ve been paying attention,” he says, gesturing at Seokmin’s notebook, filled from top to bottom, margin to margin.

“Yeah it’s… more interesting than I expected,” Seokmin says, trying not to smile.

Jeonghan works his tongue inside his mouth, the tip of it pushing against his cheek. “Alright. I’ll take that,” he says. “Keep that up for the rest of the semester and you might crack an A.”

“Might?” Seokmin says, paling.

Jeonghan’s mouth twitches at the corners. “No free passes in this class, Seokmin-ssi.”

Seokmin’s heart leaps into his throat. He can’t believe he ever thought he could do this. He can’t do this. He needs to drop the class. He’s a third of the way to a real boner from ten seconds of conversation.

“Dude, he knows your name,” Soonyoung whispers reverently, interrupting Seokmin’s meltdown.

“He knows everyone’s names. He called the roll before we started.”

Soonyoung clicks his fingers. “True.”

  
  


—

  
  


Seokmin gets into the rhythm of the semester over the next two weeks. He keeps his bedroom clean, eats at least one vegetable a day. The thing with Jeonghan—thing, being his relentless crush—burns steadily all the while. Nothing happens to make it flare up any more than usual.

Until.

Seokmin is distracted. It’s raining in sheets and he didn’t bring an umbrella so he’s been running around campus all morning, backpack held up in a useless gesture to keep his hair dry. He didn’t do very well in his literature quiz and Soonyoung is home because he’s got a cold, so there’s nobody to eat lunch with. He eats a sad container full of gimbap on the benches outside the library and then he jogs to the humanities building, feeling flat. 

Seeing Jeonghan feels a little bit like a revival—he’s wearing a black high-neck sweater today and it offsets the tone of his skin so beautifully—but Seokmin still finds his mind wandering off from the lecture, staring at Jeonghan and the way his mouth moves with his chin in his palm, not absorbing a single word.

When three o’clock rolls around he sleepily packs his bag and trudges off to make the walk back home in the rain. 

He makes it to the end of the emptying corridor and is stopped by a hand on his shoulder. 

He spins around to find Jeonghan, out of breath and very close.

“Jeong—Professor.” Seokmin clears his throat. “Hi.”

Jeonghan hands him something. “You left this.”

Seokmin takes his notebook with huge eyes. “Wow, thank you. I didn’t even realise! I’m so—” He waves his hands around his head “—today. Sorry.”

“That’s alright,” Jeonghan says, voice gentle. “I noticed you weren’t paying as much attention. Are you okay?”

“You noticed?” Seokmin blurts.

Jeonghan laughs. “You sit right at the front, I can tell when you’re spacing out.”

“Oh. Right. Well, sorry. You’re very interesting, I’m just tired.”

Jeonghan smirks. “I’m interesting?”

“Fuck, I meant… the class.” Jeonghan looks pleased, so maybe it’s worth the way his skin is prickling. “Thanks again,” he mumbles, holding up the notebook.

Jeonghan hums. “Don’t open it until you get home, though. Okay?” He waits until Seokmin nods, and then he walks back the way he came with a wave. 

It’s a weird thing to say. Seokmin doesn’t listen to him. 

He ducks into the closest bathroom and locks himself in a stall, undoing the elastic keeping his notebook shut and carefully flicking through the pages. When he gets to today’s notes, he yelps and slams the book shut. 

“You okay, man?” someone asks. 

“Yes. Thank you. Um. Had a milkshake.” Seokmin mouths _stupid, so stupid_ at himself, but the stranger makes a sympathetic noise. 

“Damn, I’ve been there. Good luck.”

The door to the bathroom swings open and shut and Seokmin takes two deep breaths before opening his notebook again. 

The Polaroid is tucked into the crease, photo side up. Seokmin touches it with shaking fingers. 

Jeonghan took the photo down the length of his body. He’s naked, obviously so, but a red sheet is draped over his crotch, kissing his hip bones and leaving his inner thighs exposed. The hand not taking the photo is fisted in the sheets beneath him. 

No part of his face is in the frame, but he’s hard under the sheet. It’s both worse and better than if he had been completely naked, like Jeonghan knows Seokmin has been dreaming about his body for weeks, so he only had to show him a part of it. Seokmin sits on the closed toilet seat and stares at the photo. He wonders what Jeonghan’s plan was if he hadn’t conveniently left his notebook behind. Was he going to slide it between his quiz papers when he handed them back? In front of everyone? Does he want Seokmin to give him something, too? Does this mean that he’s still… interested?

Seokmin feels lightheaded. 

He flushes the toilet for show and washes his hands, catching sight of himself in the mirror. His cheeks are flushed. He feels too hot under his sweater as he walks back past classrooms and groups of students studying and walking and laughing together. He keeps expecting someone to stop him and demand to see the photo, to get him in trouble. But nobody knows about it. 

Nobody has to know.

  
  


—

  
  


He gets a call from an unknown number after dinner. He picks up, not thinking much of it. “Hello?”

“So. Did you like it?”

Seokmin frowns. “Excuse me?”

“The photo, Seokmin-ah.”

Seokmin freezes. He looks over his shoulder, but Soonyoung is still in the shower, singing loudly and off-key.

“Jeonghan?” he asks, hushed.

“Who else,” Jeonghan laughs, low, close to the receiver. It sends goosebumps all over Seokmin’s body. He goes to his room and closes the door.

“How did you get my number?” 

“Well, it was a little unethical of me, but I copied it from the class directory.” Jeonghan’s voice loses its edge. “Is that… alright?”

Seokmin knows he’s not just asking about the number. He doesn’t answer right away, and their breath gets tangled over the call. The silence becomes stifling.

“Seokmin?”

He puts his face in his hand. “What are you… won’t we get in trouble?”

“Not if we’re careful.”

“Hyung,” Seokmin says, strained. 

“I know, I know,” Jeonghan chants. Something rustles, like he’s lying in bed, like he’s under a red sheet— “It’s stupid. We shouldn’t.”

The silence is telling. 

“But?” Seokmin prompts—stupidly, eagerly.

Jeonghan sighs. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

Seokmin exhales loudly into the receiver, hand caught over his eyes like it’ll make this easier to digest. Jeonghan wants him. Again. Has wanted him. This whole time. 

“Why don’t you look at me in class?” he asks before he can help himself. 

Jeonghan laughs airily. “Because I can’t do my job if I’m thinking about getting on my knees in the middle of a lecture, can I?”

“Oh god,” Seokmin squeaks, laughing out of shock and disbelief. He keeps expecting to wake up with sheets to change and shame to wash off in the shower. But no—the phone shows a real number when he pulls it away to look at the screen. The world is still spinning around them. Soonyoung just turned the water off. This is happening. 

“Seokmin.” Jeonghan says his name like it’s getting fucked out of him. “Come over.”

“I don’t have your address,” Seokmin says weakly, but he’s already standing up and kicking his sweatpants off and looking for something a little sexier than a hoodie stained with chilli sauce.

His phone vibrates against his cheek.

“Now you do,” Jeonghan says. 

  
  


—

  
  


The door to Jeonghan’s apartment opens and Seokmin is immediately tugged inside.

“God what took you so long?” Jeonghan asks, crowding against him and kissing him. Seokmin pushes back into it like his life depends on it, hands falling to Jeonghan’s hips and pulling them together. He’s wearing a dark blue robe cinched at the waist; Seokmin’s hands slip over the material.

“Sorry, the metro was—mmph.” The backs of his knees hit the couch and Jeonghan shoves him into the cushions, trying to keep their mouths connected while he straddles Seokmin’s lap and tugs at the buttons of his shirt.

“This is pretty, did you get dressed up for me?” he asks, pushing the material off Seokmin’s shoulders like he would rather burn it than see it for another second.

“No,” Seokmin says defensively. It’s actually the real reason he was late; he took a taxi, paid too much, didn’t think twice about it.

“Don’t go all shy on me, Seokmin-ah.” Jeonghan pulls the tie at his waist and the robe falls off of him in waves. He’s completely naked under it. 

“Shit,” Seokmin breathes, hands moving up Jeonghan’s thighs, up his sides, around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. Jeonghan hums into it, pressing the bare skin of their chests together, threading his fingers in Seokmin’s hair and tugging lightly at the same time as he bites down on Seokmin’s bottom lip.

“Have you been thinking about this?” he asks, moving his mouth to Seokmin’s ear and his hands to the fly of his pants. 

“Every day,” Seokmin confesses, eyes shut, head tipped back. When he’s met with quiet, he opens his eyes. 

Jeonghan is staring at him like he wants to devour him whole.

It feels like he does.

He doesn’t even give Seokmin a second to catch up. He gets him hard and rolls a condom over his cock before sinking down in one easy movement. “Fingered myself. Didn’t wanna wait,” he pants, lifting up so that the tip of Seokmin’s cock is all that’s left inside of him, and then he drops down. Seokmin curls into him with a groan. Jeonghan doesn’t let up at all, riding Seokmin like he’ll die if he stops. Both of his hands grip the back of the couch, caging Seokmin in. 

He clings to Jeonghan’s back and takes it. When Jeonghan starts moaning louder, faster, he licks a stripe up his palm and brings a hand between them. Jeonghan’s eyes drop to his hand and he watches his own dick fucking in and out of the ring of Seokmin’s fingers, the tip shining and wet with precome and spit. 

“Jeonghan,” Seokmin says, “Hyung.”

Jeonghan looks up. He’s the perfect picture of devastation, hair sticking to his temples and his lips red and swollen from Seokmin’s teeth. He comes with his eyes on Seokmin’s face and a sustained, high-pitched whine fed into his mouth. 

“No, keep going,” he urges, when Seokmin slows down to a stop. 

“You sure?” 

Jeonghan nods. “Come in me. Inside me.” And it’s just talk, but it sets Seokmin’s bones alight; he gets both hands on Jeonghan’s ass and plants his feet on the floor and thrusts up, hard and fast. Jeonghan whimpers in oversensitivity but he moves with each thrust, clenching around Seokmin and pressing against him, It doesn’t take long until Seokmin buries himself as deep as he can and comes into the condom, shuddering.

Neither of them move for a minute, both catching their breath.

Jeonghan turns his head to kiss the shell of Seokmin’s ear and says, “B plus.”

  
  


—

  
  


It escalates quicker than Seokmin expected it to. One day he’s _Lee Seokmin, fourth year Liberal Arts student_ , and the next he’s _Lee Seokmin, fourth year Liberal Arts student engaging in an illicit affair with his teacher on a regular basis._

They don’t text each other much. They both agree that the less… evidence there is, the better. It makes Seokmin anxious if he thinks about it too much, but he’s too busy thinking about Jeonghan giving him a handjob in his massive bathtub, or the way Jeonghan sounds when he’s edged with a vibrator, or the way Seokmin stayed overnight and woke Jeonghan up by fucking into him, half asleep and slow, bodies rocking together until they both came. 

Jeonghan always kisses him goodbye at the door and watches him leave. It’s a lot more gentle than Seokmin expected. The first few times he braced himself to be kicked out, ignored, treated like a means to an end. But Jeonghan is sweet. He clings to Seokmin even when they’re not fucking, laughs at his jokes and teases him like it’s a sport. He’s grumpy in the mornings and easily stressed out, but he’s never truly mean to Seokmin.

They’re not dating, but Seokmin is terrible at compartmentalisation, so he starts to fill in gaps between their meet-ups, pretending that he’s building something that he could tell his friends about without risking both his and Jeonghan’s academic careers.

Although the sneaking around makes it exciting, gets them both riled up enough to fuck in the corridor on the way to the bedroom more often than not, it nags at Seokmin sometimes. He’s not really built for things like this, but the good far outweighs the bad.

Mondays, for one, have become much more interesting.

Seokmin has turned it into a game. He does things like rub his thigh under the desk where Jeonghan can see, chews on the tip of his pen, uses it to pull his bottom lip down. He wears an open-collared shirt to show off the line of hickeys Jeonghan left behind two nights ago. Anything to spark a reaction. 

Soonyoung has still, miraculously, not dropped the class, so he still has to be subtle enough that his friend won’t notice, but it’s not hard. Soonyoung is a little oblivious. Jeonghan picks up on even the smallest things, and then he tells Seokmin to see him after class.

He’ll say something like, “Any ideas for your final project, Seokmin-ssi?”

And Seokmin will frown and say, “Not yet. I think I’ll get started tonight.”

“Good idea.”

Fast forward six hours and Jeonghan will have him pinned against the sheets, fucking the cheek out of him, and Seokmin will be loud enough for a noise complaint, because he knows how much Jeonghan likes it. 

It does make concentrating in class difficult. Seokmin has to revise his notes multiple times during the week, not just because he can’t pay attention during the lectures, but because Jeonghan is still his teacher and he nags him about it. He keeps it out of the bedroom, at least, and Seokmin is thankful for that—he doesn’t want to start getting hard whenever someone talks about the Roman Empire.

It’s not until week seven, when they’re moving into ancient Greek history, do the lines overlap.

  
  


—

  
  


“Hyung, why do you make these assignments so difficult?” Seokmin whines, pressing his cheek into the wood of Jeonghan’s dining table. 

Jeonghan laughs as he fills a glass with water. “They’re not difficult if you know the material.”

“I know the material,” Seokmin says defensively, “I just don’t understand what connection we’re supposed to make between…” He looks at his laptop. “Methods of war in Ancient Greece and the role of the martyr.”

“I’m not helping you write your essay. You know the rules.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Seokmin pouts.

“But…” Jeonghan puts his glass in the sink and walks over to one of the bookcases lining the wall of his sitting room. He scans the shelves for a second before making a happy sound and pulling out a thin, white book. He holds it up. “I could give you some motivation.”

Motivation, in Jeonghan’s eyes, means getting naked and fingering Seokmin while he reads out fragments of ancient Greek poetry. 

“ _I love the sensual,_ ” Seokmin reads, voice hitching when Jeonghan adds a third finger. “ _For me this, and love for the sun, has a share in bril—_ ah—hyung, I don’t get how this is going to help.”

Jeonghan finishes sucking a mark into Seokmin’s inner thigh and looks up through his lashes. “Keep reading. You stop, I stop.”

“Fine,” Seokmin says. He turns the page. “ _You set me on fire_.” Jeonghan scissors his fingers and sucks the tip of Seokmin’s cock. Seokmin moans, but he keeps going, eyes searching for the fragments of the poems between their explanations. “ _Honestly, I wish I were_ …” Jeonghan takes him into his throat. He whines and fucks up gently, but Jeonghan’s other hand instantly comes down on his hips. 

He looks sideways at the book where it rests between his fingers. “ _I wish I were dead. Weeping many tears, she left me and said, “Alas, how terribly we suffer, Sappho. I really leave you against my will_.”

Jeonghan pulls back, reaching for a condom. “You have a beautiful voice for poetry.”

Seokmin blinks slowly, taking in the treasured sight of Jeonghan kneeling between his legs, cock hard, hair messy. “Thanks,” he breathes, “I took a class last year.”

“Of course.” Jeonghan smiles and shuffles closer. _“And I..._ ” he prompts.

Seokmin’s voice goes strained as Jeonghan pushes into him. “ _And I answered: “Farewell, go and remember me. You know how we cared for you._ ” Jeonghan rubs his stomach and his sides to help him relax into the feeling, nails catching between the divots of his abdominal muscles, making them clench. Seokmin always feels a little more overwhelmed when Jeonghan tops. He tries not to read into it.

“ _If not, I would remind you_ —” He hiccups when Jeonghan thrusts out and back in “— _of our wonderful times_.” Jeonghan is breathing heavily, hands tight on the meat of Seokmin’s thighs, using them as leverage to saw his hips, moving at a steady pace, nudging Seokmin up the mattress and tugging him back down. “ _For by my side you put on many wreaths of roses and garlands of flowers around your soft neck._ ”

Jeonghan whimpers and Seokmin grabs him by the back of the neck with his free hand, guiding his head against his neck. Jeonghan goes easily. He spreads his knees out a little and gets his forearms between Seokmin’s shoulders and the mattress, pressing their torsos together and rolling his whole body into each thrust. 

Seokmin holds the book over his back and reads, voice cracking between every third word. 

“ _And with precious and royal perfume, you anointed yourself._ ”

Jeonghan speeds up, pushing them both up the bed a little more. He turns his head and starts kissing a sloppy line along Seokmin’s jaw to his mouth. Seokmin gets distracted kissing him for a minute, licking into his mouth, against the seam of his delicate lips. 

“Keep going,” Jeonghan pleads against his chin. Seokmin tears his eyes away.

 _“On soft beds you satisfied your passion_ ," he recites, breathless, “ _And there was no dance, no holy place from which we were absent.”_ The poem ends and Seokmin tosses the book into the sheets. He forces their mouths back together with one hand and with the other he reaches down to grab a handful of Jeonghan’s ass to feel the muscle clenching and releasing. 

“God, hyung.” He moans as Jeonghan fucks into him roughly.

“Who is it for?” Jeonghan says into his mouth. “Who are you like this for?”

“You. Just you,” Seokmin pants, and he’s almost scared by how much he means it. 

“Just me,” Jeonghan echoes. He punctuates it with a smile that makes Seokmin clench around him. Jeonghan’s rhythm stutters. They devolve into frantic movements and sounds, words giving way to whimpers bitten into sweaty skin. Jeonghan comes first. He pulls out and takes Seokmin back into his mouth with three fingers pressed in deep, seeking out his prostate and abusing it. Seokmin feels like his orgasm lasts forever, his body strung out and limp against Jeonghan’s best sheets. 

The silk sticks to his back when he turns onto his side to tuck into Jeonghan’s body where it’s starfished in the space beside him. He props himself up on one elbow and traces patterns across Jeonghan’s heaving chest.

“Have you got a poetry kink I don’t know about?” he asks, smirking. 

Jeonghan turns his head. His hair falls into his eyes and Seokmin gently pushes it back. “I didn’t before, but I might have to take Sappho out of the lecture notes for next week.”

Seokmin hums. “Leave it in.”

Jeonghan laughs, eyes wide with surprise. “You’re really something,” he says softly. He watches Seokmin with a burning kind of intensity that Seokmin would usually shy away from. He holds Jeonghan’s gaze. He leans over him and kisses his mouth, soft and slow. Jeonghan keeps his eyes open, and Seokmin preens under the attention. He slides over Jeonghan’s body and pulls them flush together, uncaring of the messes on their skin, and kisses Jeonghan pliant. 

They make out until their mouths are numb and Jeonghan gets too sleepy to reciprocate. Seokmin stands up to find a washcloth and wipes him down gently, and then himself. 

Jeonghan watches him the whole time.

  
  


—

  
  


Something shifts after that night. Their moments together become less frantic and more thorough. Sooner than Seokmin hoped for, they have to meet up less because of the encroaching exam period. The semester has taken a sharp turn into due dates and word counts and Seokmin just can’t spare the time he could before. They make whatever moments they have together count. 

Seokmin goes to Jeonghan’s apartment during the day for the first time, and they have sex in the living room with coffee brewing on the stove and all the curtains drawn. 

Jeonghan calls him on a Tuesday night and talks Seokmin through two orgasms and one of his own.

The space apart gives Seokmin too much time to think. He’s always been better at being busy, being distracted, and going to Jeonghan’s apartment twice a week has been the perfect way to keep the anxiety at bay. He tries to bury himself in exam prep, and it kind of helps, but the nerves have a habit of creeping in anyway.

At least Soonyoung stopped questioning where he was going after the second week, so Seokmin hasn’t had to worry about lying to him. He just smacks Seokmin on the ass whenever he sees him heading for the door and tells him to “Ride that dick like a wave, Seokminnie.” Seokmin tells him that it doesn’t make sense, and Soonyoung just pretends to surf back to his bedroom. 

It has suited him, probably, to have the apartment to himself, so that he could invite whoever he was fucking over without fear of Seokmin yelling at them to shut up through their shared wall. 

So when Seokmin stops leaving the apartment as frequently, Soonyoung notices. 

“You’ve been home a lot,” he says on Sunday night. “Did something happen with your boy? Did you break up?”

“No, we’re not even—” He pokes his noodles. Are they together? It’s never come up. He frowns. “Exam period is just intense. Neither of us have time right now.”

It’s true—Seokmin isn’t the only one drowning under the weight of the tail end of the semester. Jeonghan is teaching two different classes, which means he has almost eighty students. Seokmin doesn’t know how he does it. 

“Yeah I feel that,” Soonyoung says. “I’m probably fucked for like, four of my subjects.”

“Aren’t you taking… four subjects?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung sighs. His eyes brighten. “How’s Professor Yoon?”

Seokmin chokes on his mouthful. “Shit. Piece of chilli. Um.” He takes a massive sip of water. “He’s fine.”

“I’m so sad I had to drop his class. I was actually enjoying it, and not just because he’s flaming hot.”

Seokmin snorts. He told Jeonghan early on that Soonyoung only took the class because of him and he’d preened, like he knew. “Why did you drop it, then?”

Soonyoung shrugs. “Long form exams give me anxiety and I’m not good at memorising dates.”

“Fair,” Seokmin concedes. 

“Anyway,” Soonyoung brightens, “Last week of classes! Thank god. If I write a card for Professor Yoon will you deliver it for me?”

“A card?” Seokmin laughs, covering his mouth with a hand.

“Yeah, for Christmas and also just to say thanks. He really got me through the first half of semester, if you know what I mean.” Soonyoung grins and wags his eyebrows. Seokmin shoves his shoulder and calls him a pervert. The little gremlin sitting on his shoulder tells him that he’s ten times worse. He adamantly ignores it.

  
  


—

  
  


Jeonghan picks up on the second ring. “Good afternoon.” 

“Hey,” Seokmin says, walking out of the exam hall, wrapping his scarf tighter. “Where are you?”

“Hongdae. Shopping for gifts.”

“A little last minute, don’t you think?” Seokmin teases.

“Yah, Christmas is still a week away.” Jeonghan’s voice moves away from the receiver. “Joshuji, that shirt is disgusting, don’t you dare.” He comes back. “Sorry. Just saving my friend from ruining his marriage.” 

“Oh, you’re with friends? I can call back later.”

“No, don’t be silly. How was the exam?”

“You know how it was, hyung, you wrote it.”

“Well how was it for _you_?”

“I think that’s against the rules,” Seokmin smiles. 

“What? No it’s not,” Jeonghan says, his pout clear in his words. “The rule was ‘no special treatment’ not ‘no spoilers’.”

Seokmin laughs, bright enough to see his own breath dance around him. “You’ll just have to see. Go easy on me.”

“Mm, never.” 

Seokmin comes down from his laughter, and they just exist together for a few seconds on the call. He starts his walk home and Jeonghan directs his friend away from a few more purchases. Seokmin’s steps and shoulders are light as feathers. The semester is done. His entire _degree_ is done. It doesn’t feel real. 

“Hey, um. I’ve been thinking,” he starts.

“Uh oh,” Jeonghan gasps.

“Shut up,” Seokmin says weakly. “Seriously. Hyung. I’m finished now. I won’t graduate until next year, technically, but…” He lets the insinuation hang in the winter air, over the line. He wasn’t intending to have this conversation over the phone but it feels easier this way. He feels a little less vulnerable without Jeonghan’s sharp eyes picking him apart like teeth, without the distraction of his body beneath him.

“What are you asking, Seokmin-ah?”

“You know.”

“I do. But I want you to tell me.”

Seokmin pauses at the corner of the street and leans against the edges of a cafe, watching people mill past with their padded coats and pink noses. He imagines being able to come to a place like this with Jeonghan, holding his hand. Being in public. Together. The idea sends a thrill through him. 

“Can I come over tonight?” he asks. 

Jeonghan tuts. “No, no, no. Try again.”

“God, you’re impossible.” Seokmin huffs. He takes a deep breath. “Can I keep seeing you? Like. Officially.”

“ _Like_ officially?”

“Hyung!” Seokmin laughs, frustrated. 

“Okay, okay,” Jeonghan concedes, laughing softly. “Sorry. Yes, Seokmin-ah. I would love that. I mean, it’s still not something for your social media to see but—”

“Yes. Of course.” Seokmin buries his smile in his scarf. “Cool.”

“Very,” Jeonghan says drily. “I have to go now, but come over tonight. Wear something nice.”

“What’s the point? You’re just going to take it off.”

Jeonghan cackles and hangs up on him, and Seokmin can’t even be mad about it. He walks home with such a spring in his step it’s a miracle he doesn’t shoot off into the stratosphere. 

He gets home right after Soonyoung and pulls his coat off. He can't stop smiling. 

Soonyoung squints at him, smiling too like he thinks there’s a joke he should be in on. “What’s funny?” he asks.

Seokmin sighs dreamily. 

“History fucks.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed my first forbidden fic :) please consider seokhan more often :)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/dygonilly)


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